


Rainbow in the Dark

by ddespair



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M, Prostitution, Sugar Daddy, sex drugs rock n roll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8871040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddespair/pseuds/ddespair
Summary: Prostitute/kept man AU where Toki missed his audition entirely and is stuck selling himself for cash. Meanwhile, Skwisgaar has been living his wish of a one guitar Dethklok.





	1. One night in the city

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: I'm kinda embarrassed by this but I've written too much, I guess it's sort of an investment now. Also, I have no idea how far I’ll be able to get with this, but in this AU Dethklok's fame/success is a little scaled back, a bit closer to actual regular celebrity status. They’re still really rich but not a top world economic power, they live in a mansion not a castle, concertgoers/employees still die but in fewer numbers and less gruesome ways, things like that.

Skwisgaar took great pride in not only his sexual prowess but his adventurous nature when it came to matters of the bedroom. Much to Charles' chagrin, risky sex was a particular favorite.

Freed of his obligations and corpse paint one evening post-show, he indulged in a favorite pastime of cruising the red light district in a limo, semi-incognito with his hair pulled back in a ponytail and under a hat. Feeling relaxed and in no hurry, he had the driver circle a few blocks before someone standing by a bus stop, abandoned at this time of night, caught his eye.

Skwisgaar mistook him for a girl at first glance, thanks to hair that was long enough to just brush his shoulders, and a wide-eyed, innocent face. Everything below the neck was decidedly man, however, and Skwisgaar was in the mood for something less soft and smooth than the usual groupie romp. Something about the youth’s expression looked corruptible, unused, and Skwisgaar rather liked the idea of breaking him in.

He rolled down the window and beckoned the boy over. After a startled glance in either direction, the kid realized it was in fact him that Skwisgaar was addressing, and approached the car.

“What ams your names?”

“T...Toki, um… Sirs…”

Skwisgaar raised a brow at a familiar Scandinavian lilt he hadn't expected to hear this side of the pond. “Where's you froms?”

“Norways…”

That explained it. “You wants to makes some money?” A voiceless nod was the response. “Then gets in the car.”

He looked frightened enough to piss his pants, but Toki obliged.

Neither of them spoke on the way back to the hotel, and Skwisgaar caught Toki sneaking furtive appreciative glances at the interior of the limousine while keeping his head down.

He was less surreptitious in his appreciation of the hotel, mouth gradually falling open at the oversized plush furniture, the glossy marble countertops of the check-in counter, the great glittering golden chandelier in the center of the lobby. If Skwisgaar had seen one five-star hotel, he’d seen em all, but Toki’s expression made him stop and consider his surroundings, which, seen through a fresh pair of eyes, were rather pretty.

Toki’s amazement continued inside Skwisgaar’s suite, where his gaze lingered on the cases of guitars Skwisgaar preferred to keep with him. “You ams… guitarist?” he inquired bashfully. Skwisgaar preferred to limit personal information when bringing home prostitutes (he was a risk-taker, not a complete idiot), but there was no point in hiding something this obvious, so he nodded. “Wowee,” the kid breathed.

The tattered, dirty state of Toki’s clothes had become glaringly evident in the bright indoor lights compared to the dim interior of the car, and Skwisgaar could no longer ignore it. “Wheres… do you lives, Toki?”

“Nowheres, reallies.”

“Where's you sleeps?”

“That bus stops you founds me ats, mostlies…”

This was far too messy; Skwisgaar regretted asking. After ordering him to clean up, gave Toki free reign of the bathroom and selected an adult movies on the hotel tv to distract himself in the meantime.

In about twenty odd minutes, Toki reappeared wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, dazed half-smile hovering on his lips, smelling strongly of flowery hotel shampoo and soap.

He was shy and hesitant at first, but obliging, and with a little coaxing and coaching from Skwisgaar turned out to have a fairly well-built body for a homeless guy, an eager mouth, and surprisingly nimble fingers. In contrast to the porn still playing softly in the background, Toki’s reactions, his enjoyment, felt genuine, confirmed when he came from Skwisgaar’s dick alone, without his own being touched.

They lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes afterwards, the hotel greeting menu looping on the television now that the skin flick Skwisgaar had ordered was over, until a loud gurgling cut through the gentle background noise of the TV.

“Ams that… your stomachs?”

“Y...yes.” Red-faced, Toki held his stomach as though trying to silence it.

“You hongries?”

“A… a... just a littles…” What a bad liar.

Skwisgaar felt a pang of sympathy; he hadn't even stopped to consider that a kid picked up off the street might not have access to regular meals. “Heres,” he said, reaching for the room service menu and handing it to the kid, “Picks somethings you likes.”

Toki stared at the menu, occasionally turning pages with a shaky hand, overwhelmed possibly by the number of choices or the English. “I… I'll has a hankboiger, Is guess…” he stammered, shutting the menu and returning it. A smile crept onto Skwisgaar's face despite himself. Day in and day out, he was surrounded by people who wanted to take from him, but here was this kid off the streets, embarrassed to even ask for anything. He felt like some sort of benevolent king spreading largesse to the grateful needy, and he enjoyed it.

\---

He'd only asked for a hamburger, but his client spent quite a long time on the phone with their order. He didn’t like to do this kind of work often, and though he’d been lucky enough to mostly encounter closeted middle-aged suburban men so far, no one had ever offered him anything other than a fistfull of bills hurriedly shoved into his hands. No one else had ever taken their time during sessions, made him feel like a real person instead of a fleshy receptacle for cum. “Okeys, they says they brings it in abouts thirties minute.” The man's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

Toki marveled at the convenience of having food brought right up into the room, but in a place like this it seemed like any magic was possible. He felt like he needed to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, or maybe even dead. Maybe this golden man was a gentle reaper come to guide him to the afterlife.

“You can puts on whatevers you likes, I don't cares,” the client said, tossing him the remote before picking up one of the guitars Toki had noticed earlier and taking a seat on a chair by the window. The quiet unplugged plinking of the guitar when he began to play was almost ludicrously fast.

Toki gaped in awe of the speed of the man’s fingers and at the strange sensation that this seemed familiar, though he struggled to remember how or why.

After a minute of watching, the gears clicked into place. “You ams… you ams Skwisgaar Skwigelf…!”

Skwisgaar stopped playing and raised his eyebrows. “I thoughts you alreadies knows.”

How could he be so stupid! Fooled by the simplest of changes in hairstyle! Skwisgaar Skwigelf himself!

“You... amazings,” was all he could manage.

“Ja,” Skwisgaar replied casually, knowingly, and resumed playing. Toki watched him, entranced, remote control forgotten until he spoke again. “You don'ts wants to watch anythinks on the tv?”

“I cans just watch you plays… if it ams ok.”

Skwisgaar shrugged.

It felt like mere minutes to Toki, but a half hour must have passed this way in the blink of an eye, for soon the doorbell was ringing, and Skwisgaar let in two bellhops, each pushing food laden carts.

The food was beyond anything Toki could've imagined or knew how to comprehend. Tiny, delicate hamburgers full of peppery greens and some kind of soft, buttery meat that melted in his mouth. Sweet, fresh oysters and something black and grainy Skwisgaar handed him on crackers that tasted of the ocean and reminded him of Oslo. Champagne, which he'd never had but had seen before on tv and seemed to him the height of luxurious festivity. And to top it all off, something that looked like a cake dressed up like a snow-covered mountain, which Skwisgaar cut him a slice of.

“This ams…!”

“Ja, ice creams.”

Skwisgaar seemed amused at Toki’s excitement, and despite his embarrassment he simply couldn't help himself and devoured the piece within seconds.

“Just eats it directlies, the rest ams for you,” Skwisgaar chuckled, pushing the dish closer to him.

He rubbed his arm self-consciously, noting Skwisgaar had only served himself a slice half the size of the one Toki had just finished. “Don’ts you wants more?”

“Nah… nots reallies big fans of the sweets.”

Then why order this whole thing? Toki wondered. He wasn't sure if the warmth in his cheeks was from the champagne or Skwisgaar's smile.

He wondered if this was the rock star’s way of getting his kicks- rich people could afford to be eccentric, after all. Pick the poorest, most desperate-looking slob off the street, give him a taste of luxury for a night, then toss him back into the cold with the knowledge that never again would he have an experience that would match.

Well, Toki decided, licking meringue off his finger, joke's on the rich guy. The memory of this night- the decadent meal, this ice cream cake, the soft hotel bed stacked with fluffy pillows, Skwisgaar's smooth skin and silky hair, the image of him playing guitar with the city lights behind him- would be enough to keep him going for a decade.

Skwisgaar sat cross-legged on the bed with his chin in his hand and a bemused expression, watching Toki eat, until at last he couldn't fit any more of the confection in his stomach.

“Fulls?”

Toki nodded sheepishly.

“Good.” He was pulled in for a kiss, Skwisgaar’s lips warm against his ice cream-frozen ones. “You wants to helps me test outs dat hot tubs in the bathsrooms?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this as an excuse to feed Toki the things I want to eat, I'm not even going to lie. Second chapter should be coming soonish if I can stop picking at it...


	2. Wearing your emotions on your sleeve

This was usually the time of the night when Skwisgaar would hand his prostitute of the day their generous pay and send them back in the limo to... whenever it was they came from. He'd never given it much thought.

Toki, however, had immediately fallen asleep after their last round. In the yellow lamplight, Skwisgaar could see the dark circles under his eyes. Earlier, while taking him from behind, Skwisgaar had also noticed a crisscross series of scars across Toki's back. Track marks he'd seen, even occasionally the telltale horizontal lines of those who'd cut themselves, but these hadn't been self inflicted. Someone else had done _something_ to Toki, and they'd done it quite a lot.

Something about this boy made Skwisgaar feel uncharacteristically nurturing in a magnanimous sort of way.  Well, he reasoned as he turned off the light, no one is _that_ much of a dick. He's not gonna wake the guy up just to send him back to sleep on the streets.

\---

 A bright beam of light from curtains that hadn't been closed all the way woke Skwisgaar the next morning, earlier than he would've liked. He grappled with his annoyance at the persistence of the light for a second before noticing the feather light touch of someone stroking his hair and humming low.

“Good mornings,” Toki smiled above him. A little creepy that he was watching Skwisgaar sleep, but his expression was one of childlike wonder, and Skwisgaar decided he could let it slide.

He grunted in response, sitting up, and on doing so noticed a smell in the room. “Um… Tokis… why ams it smells likes burnings?”

“I's makings coffees for you!”

With great effort, Skwisgaar clambered out of bed to inspect the coffee pot. “I tinks you ams apposed to puts waters in heres.”

“Oh? Wheres?”

“I uh… dunnoes.” He couldn't figure out the correct switch to turn the thing off and ended up unplugging the machine.

They ordered coffee with room service instead. This time, it was brioche french toast with fresh fruit (Toki's apparent favorite), bagels and lox, a feta and spinach-filled quiche, croissants, mimosas (the orange juice made it okay for booze in the morning), and a side of bacon.

“So you listens to Dethkloks?” Skwisgaar inquired over breakfast.

“Oh, ja! I can't buys any CDs but I hears you on the radios and I goes to the records store to listens to yous guy albums until they kicks me out!”

A short little pinprick of sadness jabbed Skwisgaar in the chest at the lack of change in Toki’s cheerful tone, as though it were perfectly normal for people to not want him around.

“I useds to plays guitars, too, until the necks broke and I couldn'ts affords to gets it fixed. Then I pawns it for monies,” an oblivious Toki continued while pouring maple syrup.

“What kinds?”

“Flying V.” Skwisgaar's forehead creased in confusion. A little hobo like this from backwoods god knows frigid nowhere should have a little grandpa guitar to play folksy hippy dippy love songs.  “I'ms from Norways, homes of blacks metals, ha ha!” Toki added. Skwisgaar's face had likely given away his skepticism, but Toki had a point. Plus, he listened to Dethklok, after all.

“You ams in a band in Norways?”

“My moms and dads didn'ts lets me outs of the house much, and we lives outsides of towns, so I mostlies plays alones.”

Growing up, Skwisgaar had thought that a parent that paid attention to you, even if it were to punish you, would be preferable to one who was simply not there- physically, frequently; mentally, always. But in wondering if Toki's mother and father had something to do with those scars, he’d begun to change his mind.

As he mused on the hazardous effects of bad parenting, his phone went off. It was a group text from Offdensen to the band.

CHARLES: please meet in lobby at 2pm for limo pickup to airport

The message alert went off again almost immediately after

NATHAN: send help pckles balck out

Typical. Skwisgaar checked the time: 12:30. Just enough time to finish eating and pack up.

“Busies?”

“I gots to goes in abouts an hour. Gots to gets to the next cities ons the tour.”

Toki nodded, chewing on his lower lip.

Skwisgaar could tell he wasn't thrilled about the idea of returning to the streets. And, to be honest, Skwisgaar wasn't big on it either, although the reasoning behind that was messy, complicated, and very uncomfortable to think about.

They continued their meal in silence.

“Listens, uh… I has two mores weeks ons tour, then I has abouts a weeks free befores I has to comes back here anyways so maybes you wants to stays untils then?”

Toki's eyes lit up. It was almost stupid how obviously he wore his emotions on his face. “Yous really means it? You sures?”

Skwisgaar _really_ didn't want to have to think any more about this decision, but this would be far from the first time he'd spent money impulsively. “Sures, whys not. You don't has anyplace else to goes, right?”

\--

Toki couldn't tell what he'd done to deserve such treatment and, despite his happiness, was troubled by a cold dread and constant voice repeating that it could disappear at any moment.

Skwisgaar left him a change of his own clothes, and- it still seemed completely impossible if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was still holding it in his hands- a credit card. “Go buys yourselves a cell phones,” he’d instructed. “This ams my number,” jotted down on the memo pad by the phone, “so you cans contacts me when I gets back. Texts me your numbers.”

Toki had wanted to kiss him goodbye when he’d left the room, but still unsure of what the true nature of this arrangement entailed for anything between the two of them, refrained.

And just like that, the Swedish guitar god was gone, like a golden gossamer dream.

After a moment's hesitation, he threw out his own old clothes and put on Skwisgaar's, acutely aware of the other man’s scent still lingering in the fabric.

It was the same city as always, but it felt foreign to not have people either staring in disgust or pointedly looking the opposite way. Not only did no one call security on him when he walked into the cell phone store, a pretty young employee offered her help. She even laughed and touched his arm when he answered her question of what he was looking for with, “A phones whats I can makes calls with.” He was sure she pushed their priciest model on him, but also too embarrassed to try to ask more about any alternate choices.

He returned to the hotel feeling drained from sensory overload and needing a nap, but first things first. Newly acquired phone plugged into its charger, he punched in Skwisgaar's number and stared at the empty text box for several minutes before settling on: “it ams me. Toki”

He'd take a nap right after and not stress about if or when he'd hear back from Skwisgaar, he decided, but it was easier said than done. He laid down, sat back up, took off Skwisgaar's shirt, laid down again, sat up again, fidgeted, chewed on a hangnail. When the phone went off, he nearly jumped out of his skin in shock, even though it’d been what he was waiting for.

“ok”

Well, he'd gotten a response like he'd wanted, but the actual contents left a lot to be desired. He flung the phone onto the other side of the bed in frustration and crawled back under the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dey gives us all the free coffee in the world and no instruction on how to cook it!


	3. I just come seeking pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to get this up sooner, but then I made some changes and had to sit on them for a week to decide if they were going to stick.

Skwisgaar finished the rest of their North American tour much the same way he usually did: getting smashed with the guys, glitzy afterparties, groupie orgies, hungover mornings where he was propped upright by black coffee and uppers. But, not unlike times he was out partying while avoiding working on a record, he was aware in the back of his mind of a responsibility we was dodging.

Dethklok’s guitarist hated responsibilities and went out of his way to avoid them or foist them off on Charles as much as possible, but he didn't want to deal with the lecture he'd get if he tried passing the buck on this one. He didn't want to have the burden of being tied down to any one person, but he also didn't want to see the look of disappointment on Toki's face at being told his days of having a roof over his head were over. There was pretty much nothing about this situation he wanted to deal with.

So he drank and he smoked and he snorted to pretend there wasn't a deadline in a week of when he'd have to face a choice.  
One morning, or rather, afternoon, waking up with the dead weight of a passed out naked girl lying across his legs, he checked his phone to find an email from his realtor with a list of apartments in the city.

“Let me know if you need anything else, buddy!” was the cheerful end tag to the listings.  
Fuck.

\---

It would make the most sense to be fatalistic about his situation, live it up those two weeks and say to hell with the rest. Whatever else happens after, at least he'll have had these two weeks.

The first full day he was on his own, feeling emboldened by the experience of purchasing the phone, he ventured out to obtain a few clothing items, a jacket, and a pair of boots with the cash Skwisgaar had paid him for his night of service. Even in the worst case, even if Skwisgaar cut him loose before he ever came back, he had a few solid meals, some new, warm clothes, and quite a bit of cash still left over. He'd survive long enough to find another job willing to pay a someone without a work visa under the table. Probably.

In the midst of his cautious optimism on his way back towards the hotel, a hand caught him by the wrist as he passed by an alley. He yelped in surprise, causing a couple of passers-by to look at him strangely, but no one stopped. The wiry man who'd grabbed him looked familiar to him, someone else who lived on the streets that he'd encountered before while… conducting business.

“Look who's movin’ up in the world, huh?” His Cheshire grin revealed several missing teeth, the remaining ones yellow and black.

Toki chuckled nervously. “Ha ha… yeahs…” He tried pulling his hand back, but the man’s grip on him was tight.

"So when's yer boss gonna see his cut?”

“I don'ts works for anyones,” Toki protested.

“If y’wanna be a whore in this town and keep your limbs, you work for the big guy. Now, when can I tell him he can expect his cut?”  
Toki's heart pounded wildly. “Fines!” With his free hand he rummaged in his pocket for a couple of the bills he had remaining.

The bum released him to count the money, and Toki began backing away from him slowly. “Sure this is all of boss’ portion? Ya ain’t stiffin’ him after all that shoppin’ y’been doin’?” He nodded toward Toki’s shopping bags.

“How’s I knows you’s reallies collecting monies for him?” Toki countered, still inching away from the alley toward the street.

“Don’t play dumb, kid.” Unfortunately, Toki had already experienced firsthand the man’s reputation as an enforcer of sorts for the local sleaze of a pimp who fancied this side of the city his territory. Well, less an enforcer and more a rat. One of the pimp’s actual enforcers, a huge, burly man with a shaved head and facial tattoos, had told him he was lucky it was just his guitar and not his legs that got broken the last time he got caught operating without authorization. And the so-called boss himself, with his terrifying glare out of his one good eye, wasn’t someone he wanted to see more than once in his entire lifetime. “Now are ya giving th’ man his fair share or not?”

“Yous guys goings to leaves me alones after dis?”

His eyes narrowed menacingly. “All he needs is his cut, fair n’ square. We’ll be outta yer hair.”

“Fines, takes it alls, I don’t cares!” Toki shoved the remainder of the wad of cash into the man’s hands. “You wants to search mes? That’s all of it excepts whats I use to buys clothes!”

The meth-mouthed mook practically drooled over the bills. “Damn! Who’s the big spender?”

He was speaking to air- Toki had taken off full tilt, bags bouncing madly against his leg as he dodged pedestrians. He ducked and weaved through side streets and alleyways, glancing over his shoulder periodically to make sure he wasn’t followed, before he was finally satisfied that he hadn’t been tailed back to the hotel.

Once back in the room, the adrenaline keeping him upright seemed to run out all at once, and he collapsed against the door after deadlocking it, legs still shaky. Not just his legs, his whole body was trembling, and he grabbed hold of both arms to try to will it to stop.

It’s over, it’s all over, he told himself repeatedly. The guy got what he wanted, the pimp would get what he wanted, he’d never be caught “poaching” again on anyone’s “territory.” He'd done it a dozen times before and only got found out that one time. He hadn’t been followed, and there was no way they could find him. Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine.

Even with his paranoia managed, the experience put him off venturing outside on his own. He stayed in the hotel after that, guiltily buying meals with Skwisgaar's credit card at the little cafe in the hotel to bring up to the room to eat. Daytime hours he whiled away at the hotel gym, at night he drank from the minibar in the room, trying to blot out his alternating ennui and anxiety with physical sensations.

Toki knew he could skip town, never risk crossing paths with the pimp with the dead eye, never invite further harassment from his cronies. Chances were good he was safe, but he simply couldn't stop worrying. He wondered if the risk, however small a risk it may be, was worth something so shaky and uncertain with a creature from a different plane of existence. But every day after the sun set and the tv was no longer enough to drown out his noisy brain, he thought of Skwisgaar playing guitar, imagined him still sitting by the window, fingers flying over the frets. And knew he was fucked.

\--

He received a new text exactly two weeks after Skwisgaar’s departure containing only a link, which he opened hesitantly. It took him a moment of staring and sounding out words to realize it was Skwisgaar's flight itinerary, and it meant he was coming back late tomorrow morning.

The night was spent tossing and turning, until the curtains turned pale from the light behind them. At long last he gave up on sleep and went downstairs to get some coffee from the hotel cafe.

The TV stayed on to distract him, but the minutes turned to hours and still his phone didn't ring. The sun went down and still, his phone hadn't rang.

A telltale prick in his eyes predicted tears, but rather than give in, he crawled into bed with two fistfuls of mini liquor bottles and drank away his sorrows.

\--

Toki hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until the door clicking shut and the sound of something heavy thudding to the floor roused him. His body reacted before his brain, scrambling upright in panic, and a voice said, “It ams okay. It's just mes.”

It took Toki another second to realize who “me” was, and the second after that Skwisgaar was on top of him, hands in his hair, kissing sloppily and reeking of alcohol and pot.

Toki's hands moved to undo Skwisgaar's pants, but with a great sigh next to his ear, Skwisgaar's body went limp and unconscious atop Toki's.  
Dissatisfied, Toki let out a sigh of his own and rolled Skwisgaar off himself before going back to sleep.

\--

It was one of those mornings where last night's alcohol had him up at the crack of dawn, and though Skwisgaar would've preferred to sleep off his dull hangover headache, trying to fall back asleep proved fruitless.

And so he sat, playing the same gallop over and over just so his fingers would have something to occupy them while he stared at Toki's sleeping form and tried to telepathically will him awake.

He'd spent the flight over drafting a list. A contract, if you will, and Skwisgaar would, because contracts were familiar and gave a sense of grounding in this decidedly unfamiliar mess he'd created for himself.

At last, Toki awoke, looking nearly as bad as Skwisgaar felt and frowning at the sunlight coming through the windows. Skwisgaar sent the text he'd had typed and waiting.

“I just calls a cars, but befores it gets heres, we needs to has an diksussions.”

“O...keys…”

“Dis,” he gestured at the space between them, “amments a relation-ips. “Ams business arrangements.”

A business arrangement consisting of Toki being available, for company and for sex, whenever given at least 12 hours prior notice. He would be housed and given monetary compensation on a monthly basis. No needles, and biweekly checkups. The arrangement automatically becomes null and void if Toki catches anything. The arrangement becomes null and void if Toki attempts unauthorized contact with any member of or staff employed by Dethklok. The same thing applied to sharing information about Skwisgaar or their arrangement with the press or any members of the public, with added retaliatory actions. Skwisgaar could choose to end the arrangement at any time. Above all, and this required reiteration, this was not a relationship, and outside of these agreements, neither of them had any obligations of any sort to each other.

“Dos you understands?”

Toki nodded.

“And agrees?”

“...Yes.”

“Yous ain't sounds too sures.”

“I'm sures.”

“Okay.” Skwisgaar checked the time on his phone. “Cars shoulds bes here, let's goes downstair.”


	4. The rush of thunder

It was a town car this time instead of a limo. Toki had a suspicion Skwisgaar normally would want to fool around in the backseat even though it would've been obvious to the driver, but this morning he looked even more hungover than Toki felt, which he felt a little grateful for. He worried at the insides of his cheeks with his teeth, wondering if taking Skwisgaar’s offer had been the correct course of action.

The apartments they went to see all looked like movie sets to Toki, they felt foreign and, splendid though they were, he couldn't imagine himself living in any of them. He also couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have someone pay for him to live in places like them. Skwisgaar had complaints about each location- poor lighting, not fully furnished as he'd asked, he hated the layout of the kitchen (did Skwisgaar even cook? Toki wondered), the crown moulding was gauche, so forth and so on; Toki himself offered no comments. He could tell by Skwisgaar's expression that he was becoming frustrated with Toki's apparent lack of enthusiasm, and wished he could figure out a way to explain that he was really just overwhelmed and intimidated.

They stopped in between for a meal at a cafe Skwisgaar seemed familiar with, where Toki noted that what he'd taken for generosity that first night had really a habit of Skwisgaar's to order a half dozen things take two or three bites of each, then have the rest thrown out. A bizarre practice in the eyes of someone who could've been fed for days off the food that went to waste, but hey, the rock star could afford it.

He dared to hope that a full stomach would improve Skwisgaar’s mood, but any effect was minimal. In fact, Skwisgaar had almost been ready to skip the last place entirely until the driver pointed out it was only a city block away.

It was smaller than the other places, and the furniture much less trendy. The exposed red brick walls and dark wood floors felt familiar and homey. Toki didn't realize he was smiling until Skwisgaar peered at him over the sunglasses he'd kept on since about three stops ago. “You likes it?”

He nodded hesitantly, shocked at being asked his opinion about anything.

Skwisgaar frowned but made no comment, leaving Toki to wonder if he was thinking it over or hating the whole thing.

The single bedroom, tiny bookshelf-lined study, and bathroom were similarly old-fashioned, but the appliances all looked up to date, suggesting the décor was intentional and not actually aged. Toki was taken in by the way it looked lived in; it looked like a place someone once called home, rather than a spread from a magazine.

“Dis am dildos, looks like place for regular jackoff… or grandpas…”

“Ams regular jackoffs though.” If even that.

“You ams in de employments of Skwisgaar Skwigelf, yous ain’ts no regular jackoffs. You cans lives anywheres you likes.”

That statement hit Toki like a bucket of ice water. “Anywheres you likes.” After a lifetime of being punished for wanting anything, what was it even like to really get to choose? Not to live by the rules of his parents, some holy book, a sleazy flesh peddler who fancied ownership of his body and his actions. He'd had some poor practice at cultivating happiness years ago, first when he left home, then coming to America on his own. Chances like this didn't happen every day, and they didn't happen to any jackoff off the street. And again he asked himself what it'd be like to do what he wanted for a change.

He decided to find out. “I likes it heres.” Fuck the consequences.

\--

The place wasn't really to Skwisgaar's taste, but the location was convenient and it was the cheapest of the listings that fit his requirements. The less money he spent, the more likely this whole thing would fly under the radar and he'd avoid getting an earful from Offdensen. Oh, and Toki liked it too… whatever.

He retrieved his cell from his pocket and dialed his realtor.

A weight on his arm stopped him, and he stopped first to stare at Toki's hand on him, then at the wide-eyed, almost fearful expression. The little idiot had been so happy just a moment ago, what'd happened?

“Just ones tings.”

“What?”

“To adds to de agreements… n… no hittings Toki.”

Skwisgaar’s knee-jerk reaction was to be offended- did he LOOK like Nathan? Like the kind of person who'd go around hitting people instead of just paying them to do what he wanted, like a normal, sane human?

Then he remembered those scars on Toki’s back and softened. “No hittings.”

“Nots evens if you gets reallies reallies mads at mes?”

“Ifs I hits at yous without yous hittings ats me forst, you keeps de apartments and never has to sees mes again. Ams fair?”

Toki's grip on Skwisgaar's arm relaxed, and a hint of a smile returned to his face. “Okey. Sounds goods.”

And just like that, goaded by pity and that sad, sappy look in Toki's downturned eyes, Skwisgaar bought the place.

They returned to the hotel after that. Skwisgaar, still hungover and grappling with many more feelings than he was accustomed to, chose, instead of trying to make sense of those feelings, to be dead to the world for a few hours.

He woke up from his nap with a much improved mood and the red sun sinking down through the city skyline. Upon hearing him sit up in bed, Toki whipped his head around from his seat at the table by the window. Skwisgaar's guitar bag lay open on the table in front of him.

“I onlies wants to looks at it, I didn'ts touch it, I’s swears…”

Skwisgaar frowned, half-annoyed, half-confused. “If you likes guitars so much, hows come you didn'ts just buys one? I tolds you to gets whatever you needs with my cards.”

Toki shrugged, face flushing. What was that supposed to mean? Skwisgaar heaved a long sigh. For someone's whose emotions were so easy to read, Toki's thought process was mystifying.

“Wells, comes on. Let's goes gets you your own.”

“My wha…?”

“A guitars, your owns guitars!”

Dethklok’s guitarist couldn't recall the last time he'd experienced the amount of sheer joy he saw on Toki's face. Actually, if he was being honest, it made him a little jealous, which was absolutely insane. A billionaire rock star, beloved by millions worldwide, jealous of a bum off the street who, until two weeks ago had been charging an entrance fee to his ass just to get by?

He was experiencing some major buyer's remorse. He never had such strange, soul-sucking thoughts before meeting Toki… right? (It couldn't possibly be that he was actually unhappy.)

He sent a text requesting a car to pick them up, pulled on a jacket, and grumpily shoved his feet into his boots.

\--

By the time they got to the nearest big box guitar store, it was less than an hour until closing and only a few other people were in the store. Skwisgaar had put his hair in a ponytail and tucked it into his jacket; he noted with relief that this appeared enough to avoid detection for the time being.

Toki made a beeline for the electric guitars, and hovered back and forth for a while before his orbit gradually narrowed around a black-and-white Flying V. His eyes darted nervously back and forth between Skwisgaar, the disinterested-looking sales clerk, and the guitar. A small groan of annoyance escaped despite himself, and Skwisgaar snapped his fingers in the direction of the store employee. “We wants to tries dis ones.”

The greasy-haired clerk glared daggers at the lanky blond but got a footstool to retrieve the Flying V from the wall display before gesturing to a nearby amp. “There, go nuts.”

Skwisgaar couldn't tell if the handwritten “NO STAIRWAY” sign was intended as a joking reference or an earnest response to one too many terrible Zeppelin covers. Either way, his lip curled in disgust.

Toki had plugged the axe in, pick in hand, tongue sticking out between his teeth in a look of goofy, childlike concentration. Skwisgaar snorted, bemused. This was either going to be really bad or really good.

He started playing, a riff Skwisgaar recognized as the intro to an old Snakes n’ Barrels song. One that he rather liked, actually, although Pickles’ guitar had always been a little simplistic for his taste. Toki's technique was solid, though his playing a bit uninspired.

He played a few more measures, stumbled, and stopped. “I forgets hows the bridges goes.” He wiped each hand in turn on his jeans nervously.

“What, ams yous gettings shys playings withs an audience?” Skwisgaar teased.

Toki forced out an embarrassed little laugh. “Plays with me. Just a littles. Maybe I’ll feels betters.”

Fishing out one of the many picks that seemed to always be in his front pockets, Skwisgaar picked up a nearby display SG and issued a challenge: “I'll plays wit you if you can keeps up.”

Guitar plugged in, he began playing. With a grand sweep of his pick, he launched into a rough sketch that had been gradually taking shape in his brain over the course of several weeks.

At first, Toki balked at the speed and savagery of Skwisgaar's initial attack, but a few seconds was all it took for him to set his mouth into a hard line and join in. And no matter how fast the arpeggios, how swift the picking, through complex licks and rapid fingering, Skwisgaar could hear Toki’s harmony beneath him, buoying him up to a place he didn't know existed. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, his only thought to move his hands faster, faster.

It got to be too much for Toki. His fingers fumbled, the spell the two had been weaving broken by discordant notes. Skwisgaar discovered that his own heavy breathing was all he could hear in the store: the other customers had formed a half-circle of sorts around them, and the previously lethargic clerk was staring with eyes and mouth wide open. One middle-aged man made as if to clap, but seeing the stunned silence of those around him, dropped his arms back down to his sides.

“That's- ...isn't he?” he overheard someone whispering, and it was their cue to get out of there.

“Ams dat's de one you wants? Okays, goods,” he grabbed Toki by the arm before he had the chance to even finish one full nod and dragged him toward the cash register, cord ripping out with a grating screech of feedback. “We ams paying!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any awkwardness, not only am I very obviously not a guitarist, I've never played any string instruments.
> 
> I considered writing in a Stratocaster, but it feels so dirty to make one of the boys play anything but a Gibson, haha.


	5. Feel the magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A porny interlude that doesn't really further the plot... lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on the off chance anyone is interested, I made a Spotify playlist to help get myself in the mood for working on this fic: https://open.spotify.com/user/ddespair/playlist/2g38nLKmoaXTsoKVKOawPg

He threw a wad of cash at the still-stunned clerk and hauled Toki out of the store without a backwards glance. Luckily, the car, engine still idling, had managed to stay in the same spot just outside the store, waiting for them.

Once inside, Skwisgaar barked at the driver to drive immediately, barely giving Toki enough time to shut the door before the car peeled out.

Within the security of tinted windows, Skwisgaar was able to collect his thoughts about what had just gone down. How could the difference between Toki playing by himself and the two of them playing together be so great? Playing with another guitarist had always felt like either a battle to be won or background noise he'd tune out (playing with Magnus had mostly been the former, which was exciting at first, but over time simply made him angry). Guitar was his entire life, it was as natural as breathing or eating, but for the first time in he couldn't recall how long, playing was also exhilarating, invigorating… fun?

He was jolted out of his reverie by the sensation of Toki's hand closing around his arm. The other hand still held onto the neck of the guitar and with a white-knuckled grip. “Thanks you.”

The same weird envy from earlier flared up over the earnestness of Toki's words. He was extra flippant to make sure no sign of it could be detected. “It amments a bigs deals. I makes that much moneys just in the times we lefts from there.” Probably. Skwisgaar knew he had a lot, that was the point.

“It ams a big deals to me.” Skwisgaar, who’d making a point to look out the window instead of at his companion, was taken by surprise when Toki grabbed hold of his other arm as well and pulled him in for a kiss.  

It was eager and messy and long, and after they parted, breathing a bit heavily, Skwisgaar gently twisted one hand out of Toki's grip to take his hand in turn and place it over his crotch.

Toki palmed Skwisgaar's growing arousal until the recollection that they weren't alone hit him, and he cast a nervous glance at the driver. More times than not, Skwisgaar would just say fuck it and go for it anyway, but Toki's embarrassment was endearing- cute, even. He'd humor the kid this time.

“Drivers, ams there any liquors stores nearsbys? I'd likes to gets some drinks.”

“Of course, sir, we'll stop by a liquor store on the way back to the hotel.” If he noticed the goings-on in the backseat, the driver gave no outward indication. The contractors Charles utilized were of the utmost professionalism and discretion. A rigorous screening process, generous compensation, and the threat of being blacklisted from the service industry and about every major company and all their subsidiaries was fairly effective at weeding out anyone who wasn’t.

\--

The driver asked Skwisgaar what they'd wanted after arriving at the store, and received a vague “Somethings nice. A few of somethings,” and several hundred dollar bills as a response. He nodded as though the instructions had made perfect sense.

“Alrights then, you has untils he gets back to finishes me off.” Skwisgaar grinned and undid his pants.

Another speed challenge. Toki felt abuzz with residual excitement from their guitar duel and the current excitement of the possibility of the driver returning before he could manage to put the same smile on Skwisgaar's face that he had over the Flying V.

He wasted no time getting to work with his mouth, a shudder of delight running up his spine as he was rewarded for his efforts with a moan. “Moves your tongues more.” Toki complied as Skwisgaar's hands worked their way through his hair, guiding him by the head further along.

A deep breath through his nose helped fight back his gag reflex, and he aimed to reach the same spot along Skwisgaar's length the next time he bobbed his head back down. “Dat ams goods, keeps goings…” Toki struggled to check the time on the dash without turning his head, but realized he couldn't remember when it was that the driver left, anyway. He put his full concentration back into the task at hand (or rather, in mouth) instead, taking hold of Skwisgaar's hips for better leverage. As he gradually picked up speed, Skwisgaar's grip on his hair tightened. “Almost... deres…”

Toki ran his tongue over the head of Skwisgaar's cock once more before he came. It was a point of pride for Toki to swallow the results of the orgasm and watch Skwisgaar slump against the car door and close his eyes.

And he'd done it with time to spare: Toki had wiped his mouth and smoothed his tousled hair, Skwisgaar’s pants were zipped and buttoned, all before the door of the store opened and their driver reappeared, holding a cardboard box with several bottle necks peeking out. A little victory laugh escaped his chest.

They were soon on their way back to the hotel again. It was a crass thought, but as he studied Skwisgaar's face, eyes still shut, under the streetlights filtering in through the windows, Toki couldn’t help but wonder if he'd been worth all the money spent on him. He nuzzled Skwisgaar's neck and whispered, “How's I dos?”

He’d earned himself a pat on the head and a “Nots bads, little Tokis.”

Even with their bodies pressed together, Skwisgaar seemed to Toki like a being made of mist, ethereal and vaguely divine and about to vanish at any moment. The image of him playing was burned into Toki's mind; he was sure he could never forget it. He cradled Skwisgaar's right hand in both his own, committing every finger and each callus to memory. Skwisgaar’s eyes fluttered open to give Toki a curious look. “What ams yous doing?”

“Wondering how yous can plays sos amazinglys,” Toki confessed.

“Hmph,” snorted Skwisgaar, but the corners of his mouth were turned up.

Hesitantly at first, then with more enthusiasm when Skwisgaar didn't pull his hand away, Toki sucked on each finger in turn, running his tongue along each digit in his mouth.

Skwisgaar's pupils were blown under the light of the hotel drop off by the time they arrived. The driver offered to call a bellhop to take their new purchases up to the room, but the Swede dismissed him with an annoyed wave. Toki took this as his cue to pick up the box of booze, but Skwisgaar had already taken it and was striding purposefully through the doors toward the elevators once Toki had gotten out of the car and tucked his new guitar under one arm.

The first bottle Skwisgaar pulled out before discarding the box on the coffee table was a single malt scotch that he took a large swig of as though it were a bottle of water. He handed the bottle to Toki, who followed suit but very soon began to cough as his mouth and throat were assaulted by fiery liquid charcoal.

Skwisgaar didn't give him much time to recover. He'd already undone his own pants again (he was adept at doing so one-handed) and shoved Toki toward the bed. “Strips.”

Toki yelped a little at the cold liquid that splashed out of the bottle onto his neck, but was happy to comply once he'd re-capped the bottle and set it on the floor.

Skwisgaar laid back on the bed and watched Toki undress with an expression that made him feel embarrassed and flattered simultaneously.

Following Skwisgaar's gestured instructions, Toki climbed on top of him, legs on either side of his. Skwisgaar located the lube from the bedside table and slicked himself up. “Dids you fucks anyones else whiles I was gone?”

“N… of course nots!” exclaimed Toki, flummoxed.

“I never says you couldn'ts.” Toki, still distracted by the question, cried out as Skwisgaar slid two fingers into him. “I just has to loosens you up again.”

Struggling to prop himself up on his elbows, he groaned into the pillow next to Skwisgaar's head.

“Cmon, gets up, I wants to sees you’s face. And I wants you to sits on my dicks on you’s own.”

Face burning, Toki obediently sat up, and, acutely aware of how closely he was being watched, guided Skwisgaar's lubricated member inside himself slowly. Wincing until it was all the way in, he sat still for a moment, panting, adjusting to the feeling of being filled.

“If you don'ts gets moving I'ms not goings to stay hards forevers,” Skwisgaar chided.

So he moved, working past the initial pain until he found that sweet spot that eclipsed everything else, raising goosebumps on the backs of his arms and blotting out all thoughts of anything other than how good it was. His own dick left a trail of precum along his abdomen as it bobbed in time with him.

“Deres you goes. Ams all yous nows.”

With Skwisgaar's encouragement, his pace quickened, a desperate keening escaping him like steam from a boiling kettle.

Skwisgaar reached up with one hand, fingers brushing along Toki’s lips before slipping into his mouth. As Toki sucked on his fingers, Skwisgaar began pumping them in and out in time with Toki bouncing up and down on his cock.

Toki’s fingers dug into the denim of Skwisgaar's pants to brace himself, and moaned around Skwisgaar’s fingers. “Sk… Skwisgaar…!!” He was coming, legs trembling and threatening to give way under the force of his climax.

“Don'ts stops, don'ts stops, I'm almost…” Toki did his best to comply, grinding his ass down until Skwisgaar followed suit with a groan and a spasm that ran along the length of his body.

With barely enough strength left to lift himself off of Skwisgaar’s dick, Toki collapsed rag-doll on top of his partner. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if this could be what true happiness was.

Skwisgaar laid still for a minute as well before rolling Toki off and complaining with a groan, “Yous mades a mess on my clothes.”

“...Takes dem offs next times.” Post-coital relaxation had made Toki cheeky.

He narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “I'm takings cleaning price out of your paychecks.”

Still feeling emboldened by how comfortable he was in the afterglow of sex, Toki laughed. “Fines by me.” He felt Skwisgaar get out of bed and watched him trudge over to the bathroom, where there was the sound of the sink running.

He laid lazily in place until something damp smacked him in the face. “Gets cleans yourselfs off with that,” said Skwisgaar in reference to the washcloth he'd just thrown while retrieving the scotch that'd been abandoned earlier.

Toki shuffled off the bed to collect his clothes once clean, but Skwisgaar stopped him. “We amments finish yet.”


	6. Shiny diamonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really short chapter, even for me- sorry! I'll try to get another up by the end of the week

Skwisgaar was playing guitar onstage; he had a solo coming up. The lights went up around him, the sound of the crowd swelling as the spotlight followed him, but when he moved to start playing he couldn't lift his right arm to strum.

He struggled for a second before he realized it was a dream. One eyelid cracked open to determine the nature of the impediment: it was Toki, hugging his arm like a koala clinging to a tree.

Skwisgaar grunted in annoyance and, ripping his arm out of Toki's grasp, turned over on his side.

The motion woke Toki up, judging by the shifting in weight on his side of the bed and a sleepy groan. Skwisgaar pretended not to notice and tried to go back to sleep until he was jolted upright by the sensation of Toki's arm wrapped around his waist, entire body pressed up against his own. “Don'ts does that,” he ordered icily, shrugging the offending limb off.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Toki mumbled an apology, then commented with a pout, “My ass horts.”

Skwisgaar chuckled, grouchiness ebbing. “I'm shores it does. Would be weirds if it didn'ts afters last nights.”

“Yous so roughs withs me.”

“Ah, shuts up, you knows you loves it.”

A strange expression flitted across Toki's face and was gone before Skwisgaar could figure out its meaning. He decided it was tied to an emotion, and emotions were gross and unpleasant, so it was best to pretend he’d never seen it to begin with.

They brushed their teeth together at the side-by-side skinks, Skwisgaar surveying the sparse contents of the bathroom as he brushed. “What's you use to showers?”

Toki rinsed and spat while looking at him as though he had a third arm growing out of his head. “De uh… soaps and shampoos? Dems little bottles what's dey gives.”

“Wash your faces wit?”

Toki's eyes darted side to side, trying to figure out if it was a trick question. “...De soaps?”

Skwisgaar shook his head a little in disbelief. It'd never even occurred to Toki to use anything other than plain soap and water. The life of a regular jackoff certainly was true misery.

The sound of water running in the shower brought him back into the moment and to happier things. He slipped into the walk-in shower, where Toki was just starting to wet his hair. Standing behind Toki, his fingers inched along Toki’s hips. “Aw, cmons, I really means it when I says it horts.”

“Fines, I wont's puts it in.” He didn't, but Toki's slippery, soapy asscheeks managed to get him off just fine all the same.

\--

Skwisgaar had told him they'd be going to purchase “essentials” today. If this many things were “essential,” Toki half-wondered how he survived so long without, and was half-disturbed by the amount of money spent on things a member of the world's largest band thought of as basic, not even luxuries.

Decked in sunglasses again, Skwisgaar had his hair tied back and hidden, but the lady at the skincare counter in the glittering department store recognized him just the same. “What can I help you with today, Mr. Skwigelf?” she asked calmly and with impeccable discretion, leaning over the counter to be heard without having to raise her voice and alert other shoppers to his presence. In the same movement, she placed one hand gently on top of Skwisgaar's. Skwisgaar smiled and Toki recognized it as the same expression on his face when Toki got into the limo the night they met. A strange, dizzying deja-vu left him nauseous for a brief moment.

The two had a conversation in low tones in what felt like a foreign language other than English due to the number of words that Toki didn't recognize. The sales clerk reached out and cupped Toki’s face, her soft hand cool against his his cheek as she stroked it gently. Toki's entire body went stiff with shock. “Don't worry, sir, I know exactly what we'll need for your skin type.”

After skincare came clothes, and Toki couldn't fathom how simple t-shirts and jeans (though more comfortable than any t-shirts and jeans he'd ever worn) could cost so much, but taking his cue from how completely unfazed Skwisgaar was, stopped checking price tags as he tried things on. They only served to make him nervous.

Thousand count, merino, Argan oil, Giza 45, foil shaver, ionic, crêpe de Chine, 24 karat, full grain calfskin, ultrafine, HDR, bergamot. Words that previously had no meaning but were now attached to concrete items wrapped in tissue, placed in bags he held in his hands. Toki's head spun.

But he couldn't help but feel, as his hands roamed over Skwisgaar's smooth skin and his face was buried in pleasant-smelling blond hair that night, that maybe there was something to be said for spending so much on personal care. 

The next couple days passed much the same way, shopping during the day, meals in private rooms at restaurants with dark lighting and delicate dishes of small, beautifully garnished morsels on giant plates. At night, Toki watched Skwisgaar play guitar, they drank, they fucked.

Every morning, Toki pinched himself to ensure he wasn't dreaming. For though Skwisgaar's attitude toward the whole thing was detached and totally perfunctory, though the money spent was completely inconsequential to a man of that level of wealth, this was still more thought than anyone Toki'd ever met in his entire life had put toward his wants and needs. And the pleasure he got out of sex had as much to do with the sex itself as the idea of someone wanting him, even just physically, instead of being rejected, shunned, as was his norm before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skwisgaar isn't THAT much of a jerk, he just likes some personal space...


	7. Don't talk to strangers

Closing on the apartment would take five days. Perhaps sensing Skwisgaar's irritation, his agent assured him this was faster than normal in his usual excessively cheery manner.

Being with someone all the time who wasn't a member of Dethklok was foreign and weird. It'd been a strange sensation to wake up in their shared apartment one day all those years ago and wonder if Pickles had been put to bed on his side after getting wasted the night before (one instance of him choking while sleeping on his back was enough), if there were Doritos and Gatorade for Nathan's hangover (nacho and the blue one, respectively), if Murderface’d had night terrors and wet the bed again. He'd collected all this information on these people without realizing, he had somehow incorporated them into his day-to-day existence, all their lives fusing together like some sort disgusting Cronenberg creation of forced companionship. It took a while for him to rationalize that this was okay, because they were bandmates. It was out of necessity that they spent so much time together in such close quarters. It was for the sake of art and money, it was valid.

The sex was great, Toki’s stamina was great, and to be honest, the dopey starstruck way he looked at Skwisgaar over any little thing he did for him was pretty fucking great. But Skwisgaar was starting to pick up on little facts about Toki like he had with Dethklok: his past as a homeschooled backwoods shut-in, the way he put sugar on top of his jam on toast, the fact that he played guitar right-handed but was otherwise ambidextrous, plus of course the scars. And this time, he didn't have the bandmates excuse. It made his stomach churn think of anything Toki may have figured out about him.

Humans are by nature selfish creatures. Skwisgaar only wanted to be adored and fucked, Toki only wanted to be provided for. This was a mutually beneficial arrangement, like those fish that would clean off sharks in return for protection from those ocean documentaries Nathan had been weirdly into lately. There was no reason they needed to know anything about each other beyond that. 

This recent deviation from his norm had Skwisgaar concerned and uncomfortable, and he felt he had to get more in alignment with his usual self. Meals with Toki so far had generally been room service or in private rooms or hidden booths at restaurants, which was starting to feel a little too… romantic. What he needed was a party, to be surrounded by strangers and music too loud to think over.

The hotel concierge arranged a table for them at a local club. Toki looked nervous at the sight of the crowds, the stocky bouncers with their sunglasses and bulging muscles barely contained by pinstriped suits, the pulsating music. Skwisgaar was determined to ignore this display of discomfort, annoyed at himself for noticing it in the first place.

Blending in with the sea of people, they were seated at their table and brought champagne, vodka, and juice in ice buckets. For the first time since he returned to the city, Skwisgaar was actually disappointed that he was escaping the notice of the general public. He considered flagging down the staff to pull some pretty female company off the dance floor to join them when a drunk pair of girls approached the table.

One, a redhead in a black dress, was being dragged by the wrist by her blonde friend while covering her mouth in a fit of giggles. “Excuse me, but, can we sit with you guys? My friend thinks you’re cute,” she said, addressing Skwisgaar.

“Ohmigod, stop it,” the redhead protested, cheeks bright pink even in the dim lighting.

Skwisgaar smiled. Perfect timing. “Ofs course yous beautifuls ladies cans joins.” They both tittered. The blond shoved her friend into the booth next to him and went to the other side of the table to slide in next to Toki. Normally Skwisgaar would find a way to bag both girls, but maybe it'd be okay sparing one to keep Toki company.  “Cans I gets yous sometinks to drinks?”

\--

If the girl with the red hair had been embarrassed and flustered at first, she became exponentially shier upon realizing in close quarters she was sitting next to the most sought-after member of Dethklok. But Skwisgaar worked his magic, pouring her champagne and whispering into her ear. Toki could tell even without being able to see that his hand must be inching up her thigh.

Her friend linked her arm with Toki's in a familiar motion and hissed in a loud whisper by his ear in order to be heard over the music, “This is so cool! I can't believe we ran into Skwisgaar just, like, randomly! I'm the best fucking friend for doing this for her.” Toki forced a smile and nodded. “So how do you know him?”

“He ams… a friends…”

“Being friends with a rock star must be the coolest.” Out of the corner of his eye, Toki saw Skwisgaar tuck the other girl's hair behind her ear and lean in to kiss her. He swallowed hard. “Uh… yeahs…” He knew he was being a terrible conversationalist, but she didn't seem to mind, beaming at him over her glass. “It ams… pretty cools…” Apparently too drunk to realize he'd nearly repeated her own words back to him, she giggled as though he'd said something clever, splashing champagne on his lap in the process.

“Ohhh no, I'm sooo sorry,” she cried, groping in the half-light for cocktail napkins to dab at his pants with. While insisting that it was fine and he could handle it himself, Toki saw Skwisgaar lead the girl's friend out of their booth and toward the bathrooms at the back of the club.

He berated himself for panicking, knowing full well Skwisgaar's reputation from celebrity gossip and tabloid headlines and even his own firsthand experience. He knew it was nearly impossible for Skwisgaar to not have slept with anyone else during those two weeks he was gone. But seeing it happen right in front of his eyes made Toki feel what he could only describe as bad.

“Hey, you're pretty cute, too.” At her words, Toki suddenly became hyper-aware that the girl's hands were still in his lap. She leaned in a little closer to his face. “Come dance with me.” Her eyes were blue like Skwisgaar's and she smelled like cotton candy. Toki swallowed hard.

He demurred and the girl pressed further. “C’mon, it’ll be fun, I won’t make fun of you, I promise.”

“I can’ts dance,” he continued protesting as she tugged playfully on his arm.

He was saved by something loud and unintelligible from the DJ that the crowd cheered over. A lull in music was accompanied by the lights going on and focusing on a platform, usually for go-go dancers, and a neon clown perched atop it.

“I’m Dr. Rockzo, the rock n roll clown! K-k-k-k yeah! I do c-c-c-cocaine!” Toki was mesmerized. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a clown- maybe a birthday party he’d been invited to once as a child. He couldn’t recall any other birthday parties, chances were that was the only one he’d ever attended. But the lucky boy or girl’s parents had hired a clown. Funny, he couldn’t remember whose birthday it was, but he remembered that clown… “Are you ready to p-p-party with Dr. Rockzo?” Toki’s body clapped automatically, as though he’d been hypnotized. 

His companion was less enthused. “Ugh,” she wrinkled her nose. “This place got so ratchet that these are the kinds of celebrities they get? Skwisgaar should be hosting, not this washed-up Zazz Blammy-whatever has-been.”

“Zazz…?” That’s right, there’d been a band like that, hadn’t there, all clowns? Not the kind of thing that the black metal record shop he frequented as a teen in Lillehammer usually carried. It was bright and colorful and magical and reminded him of the kind of idyllic childhood he wanted now that he knew it was possible.

The DJ put on a backing track and Rockzo sang a number over it until his performance was abruptly cut short by an overenthusiastic hip thrust that threw off his balance. He fell into the crowd as it roared in a chorus of laughter. 

The blonde stifled a giggle behind her hand. “What a fucking spazz. I’m surprised he can even stand up with all the shit he does.”

A bouncer and a bartender rushed to help the felled clown and in the midst of the confusion, Toki hadn't even noticed Skwisgaar and the girl with the red hair return until the booth shifted underneath him from the newly reintroduced weight.

Whereas blondie had been unimpressed, Skwisgaar looked downright offended. “What ams DATS doings here. Wouldn'ts has comes heres tonights ifs I knows.”

“Oh I knooow, right? This place has gone downhill this past year. We weren't even gonna come tonight but it's our friend’s birthday and she like, really wanted to come here. Then she goes and ditches us! Right, Megan?” The redhead, looking woozy and holding her head with one hand, looked up in bewilderment and needed a moment before she managed to respond with a nod. “Whatever. We found better company anyway.” She slid her arm around Toki's again and scooched closer. Their thighs were touching now.

Toki realized Skwisgaar was watching, but when their eyes met, he looked away quickly and reached for the vodka on ice.

Following suit, Toki poured himself another glass of champagne and downed it in two gulps, hoping to take the edge off his nerves.

“So... that dance?”

“But it ams so funs heres…!” Toki said in what he hoped was a cheerful tone while refreshing her drink. She was such a nice girl. 

“If you won't dance with me, how bout a kiss?” She puckered her glossy lips in a playfully exaggerated way.

He gave her a restrained little peck on the cheek, but even that minimal contact made his heart beat like it was trying to break out of his chest. 

“K-k-k-hello!” Everyone at the table jumped in unison at the loud and unexpected intrusion. Skwisgaar cursed. “If it isn't my old friend Skwisgaar Skwigelf! Hey p-p-p-pal!”

“I amments yous friends,” Skwisgaar replied through clenched teeth. The redhead seemed returned to her senses now, her face and the blonde’s etched in twin expressions of a mix of disgust and fear. “Gets out of here.”

“Aw, don't be like that, introduce me to your lovely lady friends!”

Megan signalled her friend with a jerk of her head. The blonde looked ready to protest, then took another glance at Rockzo and followed her friend, already on her way out of the booth. “Call me!” she called to Toki with a squeeze of his hand. He hadn't time to point out she never gave him her number before both girls were absorbed into the crowd.

“Let's get some more girls and p-p-p-party! Got any cocaine?”

Skwisgaar gave no response other than an exasperated scoff. He pointedly addressed only Toki. “We ams LEAVING, go.”

Honing in on the fact that Toki was lingering, the clown switched his target. “Hey k-k-kid, I ain't seen you round before! What's YOUR name?”

“I’s Toki,” was all he managed to get out before Skwisgaar shoved him first to his feet, then past Rockzo, and finally through the dance floor and out the door. Skwisgaar was in such a rush to leave that he even hailed a cab instead of calling a car.

Toki was perplexed by the overwhelmingly negative reaction from all toward Rockzo. Clowns were funny, why did everyone hate him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One dumb jealous idiot with emotional constipation and one dumb jealous idiot with emotional diarrhea. Who's worse? They both are.
> 
> Also if you caught my little self-indulgent Taxi Driver reference... I love you.


	8. Give me shelter shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what time it is? Feels o'clock™

After the run-in with Rockzo, Skwisgaar resigned himself to spending time alone with Toki again. Probably for the best that they maintain low visibility to avoid being spotted by the press, who were sure to jump to strange conclusions.

For his part, nothing suggested that Toki wasn't perfectly content to do nothing but sit around and watch Skwisgaar practice or experiment with ideas for new songs. Skwisgaar wondered why the Flying V he’d been so happy to receive sat unused in its case, why Toki never asked to play together or ever played himself. The more he thought about it, the more that duet seemed like a dream, or at least exaggerated by memory. There was no way playing with someone else could be better than playing alone.

He'd go out by himself occasionally, and though he never forbade it, Toki never left the room while he was gone, and every time Skwisgaar returned, there he was, waiting like a loyal dog. He never asked for an explanation, where Skwisgaar was going, where he'd been, what he'd done, who he'd seen.

At the end of the week, he left for a commercial shoot and told Toki he'd be away all day.

Skwisgaar didn't much care for the hair and makeup process, he disliked the bright, hot lights, and he absolutely detested having to repeat the same dumb lines over and over. By the time the shoot was over, he was sweaty, sore, and very, very crotchety.

Toki had been watching cartoons when he got back, but switched off the TV when Skwisgaar plopped down on the bed with a groan. “What ams wrongs?”

“Tireds. Needs a massage.”

“Okeys.” Toki set down the remote. “Takes offs your shirt off, thens.”

“Whats?”

He tilted his head to one side, confused. “You wants me to gives you backs rub right?”

Skwisgaar had been thinking more along the lines of a visit to the spa, but this didn't require leaving the room or moving from this spot, both of which were appealing right now. “Um. Shores. Why nots.” He pulled off his shirt and laid down.

Toki wasn't as firm as a real masseuse would be, any serious kinks weren't getting worked out, but to Skwisgaar's mild surprise, it still felt pretty good. The annoyances from earlier drifted a little further away each time Toki kneaded his back and shoulders. It was rare for Skwisgaar to touch anyone outside of the immediate act of sex, but maybe a change of pace every so often wasn't so bad, and it made him feel cared for. Toki’s touch was therapeutic in its own way, and anyway, sex could follow later, too.

He was reminded of a rare instance of tenderness in his early years, when he'd had a noisy bout of croup. At the doctor's suggestion, his mother had seated him in the bathroom with the hot water running. And when Skwisgaar still didn't stop coughing, she sat beside him, rubbing and pounding his back gently, until the coughs subsided. There were times before and after that when he'd gotten sick and she wasn't around, or simply gave him some pills and sent him to bed, but that time... 

Disturbed by the association his brain had made connecting Toki to his mother, Skwisgaar rolled over, previous, more amorous, mood gone. Misreading the cue, Toki crawled on top of him, and Skwisgaar put a hand on his chest, holding him arm's length away.

“Yous don't wants the happy endings?” 

“Ah… maybe laters. Dat ams goods for nows.”

\---

Moving Toki in should have been simple, but over the past few days they'd managed to accrue quite a few things. Three bellhops had to take a cart apiece, and the limo driver explained apologetically that everything wouldn't fit in the trunk, so they rode with some belongings in the backseat across from them. Toki sat closer than Skwisgaar preferred, one hand in a vice grip around his wrist, but, thinking back on his own feelings the day Dethklok moved into their current Mordhaus, out of that shithole apartment they'd once crammed five people into, Skwisgaar endured it.

With all their- Toki's- belongings safely deposited in the apartment, Toki held both hands over his chest and sighed.

“What ams the matters?”

“Nothings, I’s happy,” he replied dreamily.

At that moment, Skwisgaar's phone rang. It was his realtor.

“Hiya pal, getting settled in alright there? Good, good. So the building manager wants to know what name to put, for the mailbox and intercom and all that jazz. Are we gonna go with yours?”

“Nos!” he snapped. “Use Toki…”

“Alright, buddy, Toki what?”

Skwisgaar turned slowly and stared at Toki, who met his gaze with a puzzled and slightly concerned look. “What ams… your last names?” He'd spent an entire week and hundreds of thousands of dollars on someone whose full name he didn't even know. A little horrifying, but the edge of danger made it more exciting in hindsight.

“Wartooth.”

“Wartooth,” Skwisgaar repeated into the phone.

“Toki Wartooth. Fantastic! Okay, buddy, water, gas, electricity all good to go! Cable and wi-fi’s set! Locks are all brand-new! And if you ever need anything else, you know where to find me, pal!”

Skwisgaar hung up without saying goodbye, irritated as usual by the hyper-perkiness. But the man was efficient and took care of the whole package so that he didn't have to find multiple people to do so or bother with it himself, he supposed that was probably a fair trade-off.

The apartment was ready to be lived in, and Toki’s big dumb eyes were shining. Things could be worse.

\--

That night, after Skwisgaar had fallen asleep, Toki got out of bed and padded barefoot to the living room, where he sat on the armchair by the window, his forehead pressed against the glass as he watched the city life below.

His first night in Oslo after he'd left Lillehammer on his own by train, he'd started up at countless squares of warm, yellow light, thinking of how each one was a home, each one represented an entire human life with a place and people to come back to at the end of the day, his they'd fall asleep safe, warm, surrounded by loved ones. And though he'd been so hopeful to be on his own and free while the sun had been out, at night, being reminded that all those people had a place where they belonged, people who wanted them, and he didn't, the loneliness chilled his bones far more than even the frozen wind. It went on like that, night after night, town and borough and city after city, and he never stopped being surprised each morning that he was somehow still alive, that the crushing weight of solitude he could  _ feel  _ on his chest hadn't killed him.

It'd taken a while, and things still weren't quite the way he dreamed they'd be when he'd first set out to escape a family that scorned him, but here he was. Safe and comfortable inside one of those yellow lights he'd longed for that night, so high above all the things that used to scare and hurt him.

He fell asleep on the chair without realizing, and woke up curled in a ball with a throw over him and a crick in the neck. Skwisgaar was seated at the dining table and had been up for a while by the look of the to-go cup of coffee he was sipping.

“I ams leavings tonights,” Skwisgaar told him blankly after noticing that he was awake. 

Toki nodded in what he hoped was a casual way, berating himself for the dismay he felt. 

“You’s all settles? Anytinks else yous needs?” Toki shook his head. “Wells, you cans holds on tos that cards I gaves yous in case.”

“Ja…”

“Wells,” he said with a stretch. “Since yous all sets, what's you wants to dos todays?”

This perked Toki up. “I wants to goes to that fairs we’s seen dem flyers for yesterday!”

Skwisgaar pulled a face. “Dats? Dat amments evens a reals fairs, is some dildo church bullshits.”

“If it ams bads, we can leaves rights aways.” Still, Skwisgaar hesitated. Toki decided to press a little harder. “Please? I’s never beens to a fairs.” Not entirely true, but Toki figured having to work a fair and attending one weren't the same, it didn't count. “And I'll sucks your dick!”

“You’s sucks my dick anyways,” chided Skwisgaar, but he was already reaching for his phone to call a car. Toki congratulated himself for making the most of his position.

\--

Skwisgaar figured it was normal to spoil a- well, Toki was basically a mistress, only a guy, but he also figured most people in Toki's situation would ask for monetary perks. Nice cars, jewelry, brand name clothing and accessories, fancy meals. But Skwisgaar picked the one guy in the whole city who wanted to go to a fucking church festival.

To his credit, once given some money for tickets, Toki managed to amuse himself at booths, playing silly games and getting his face painted and eating snow cones. With the collar of his jacket turned up and the brim of his hat pulled low, Skwisgaar sulked and drank coffee. 

Fortunately, the church grounds were small and activities few, within an hour Toki had made his way around all but one attraction: a small, rickety-looking ferris wheel. The entire thing was only a little over a story tall. Toki returned to his side with pleading eyes, which Skwisgaar rebuffed with a firm, “Nos.”

Deflated but not entirely defeated, Toki rode it himself, waving down at Skwisgaar and looking like a comically sized up version of the other riders, all children.

“It's means a lots to mes,” Toki said in the car later, hugging Skwisgaar's arm until he was gently peeled off. “I’s always wants to goes as a kids, but my moms and dads never lets me.”

Skwisgaar had rarely been taken to amusement parks, arcades, festivals, or the like, and when it did happen the true purpose was always a date his mother had with a mark, some sap she was looking to leech dry. But while he'd taken off full tilt away from childhood and the feelings of helplessness that had accompanied it, Toki obviously desperately wanted to recreate his. Even though their responses differed, the idea of both of them dealing with shitty times growing up was a source of some small comfort to Skwisgaar, to know he wasn't the only one. 


	9. Giving me the strangest dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra drug mention warning for this chapter, nothing crazy but just in case.

The rest of the day flew by despite the two of them doing nothing in particular. Toki recalled Skwisgaar's terms for their agreement- this was NOT a relationship- but couldn't help himself and pulled Skwisgaar back for a hug as he was on his way out with his suitcase. Skwisgaar tolerated it for a second or two, then squirmed out of Toki's grasp like an eel. “I'll uh, sees yous soons,” he said stiffly, awkwardly, before continuing out the door.

With the rising of the sun the following morning, he began to seriously berate himself for moping, and decided that now he had the money available he, too, could be a perfectly functional human being, like the people he saw on TV or walked past on the street. Just because he needed Skwisgaar's money didn't mean he needed him to be around all the time. Just because he admired Skwisgaar didn't mean he needed his company.

The Finntrolls within walking distance of the apartment ( _his_ apartment!, he reminded himself) was nicer than the average grocery store he'd been in since arriving in America, and even those he rarely lingered in for fear of being reminded of all the things he couldn't afford.  He took a full lap around the store, down each aisle, especially fascinated by bright, sugary cereals and little prepackaged meals of cheese-and-lunchmeat cracker sandwiches. By the time he’d finished waddling home with his arms full of groceries, a good three hours had passed.

The sense of pride he felt in caring for himself for a change got him through the weeks. Daytime hours were great. He could now walk through the city unafraid, take public transit or taxis, pick up takeout, feed ducks at the pond in the park, say hello back to the occasional passer-by who'd greet him. Like he'd seen on TV, like he'd seen everyone else do while busy ignoring or being repulsed by him.

But the other side of the coin of freedom was solitude, and his bed felt much too big each night. As cold as Skwisgaar could be, at least his body was warm, and Toki missed the feeling of heat radiating off it next to him. Hyper-focused on every sensation in his own body without another one there to distract him, he struggled to fall asleep and eventually took to sitting in front of the TV for hours until drifting off on the couch most nights.

Some nights, he dreamed about playing guitar with Skwisgaar- at times on puffy pink clouds, at times by the glittering ocean with the salt spray gently misting them, other times in the familiar golden hills of Dovrefjell in summer. Playing alone just wasn't the same. Trying to recreate the feeling of the other guitarist being there, he went to a nearby record store to buy Dethklok’s albums, noting with amusement that he was using Skwisgaar's money to pay Skwisgaar’s royalties.

\---

Charles really, really wanted them to get to work on a new album. He reminded them of this a minimum of seven times a day.

Nathan gave a noble show of trying, spending his days laying on the couch, recorder in hand, occasionally mumbling into it but mostly sighing the deep sighs of a tortured artist. Nothing came of it.

Skwisgaar and Pickles sat with him the first few days, tossing out chord progressions and drum patterns, but normally reliant on their frontman’s unifying vision, their suggestions dried and withered in his creative drought.

Save for Charles’ hounding, the first week and a half of this was relaxing, but starting from week two, Skwisgaar began getting antsy. Seeing Nathan mope annoyed him, listening to Charles nag annoyed him, watching Murderface pretend to contribute while obviously not caring at all annoyed him. The only other person he could turn to, Pickles, was too high to function, whether it be passed out or too manic to sit still or get a full sentence out without changing subjects several times.

“I ams leavings fors the weekend,” he announced while barging into Offdensen’s office at last one day.

“Skwisgaar, you guys have an album to write, you can't just, ah, take off in the middle of work.” Charles pressed on his temples with his fingers.

“What works? Ain't no works gettings dones around heres.” The guitarist didn't bother waiting for a response and walked straight out of Mordhaus after.

He wasn't sure why the first place he thought of to go to was Toki’s, but maybe it was because he wanted to be around someone who wouldn't pressure him to try to be creative- there were some who did that with just their presence- but Toki was simple-minded and compliant.

On the way from the airport, Skwisgaar suddenly remembered that part of the agreement had been two days’ prior notice, but it was too late now. He popped a Valium, washing it down with a swig of beer, to try to calm his paranoia. There was no way Toki would turn him away despite the lack of prior notification. He was being paid so well, there just wasn't any way.

Skwisgaar opened the door to the flickering blue glow of the muted TV. Toki had fallen asleep in front of it, slumped over on the arm of the couch with a blanket over his legs. He roused at the sound of the door shutting, and looked in Skwisgaar's general direction with barely-open eyes for a second or two before he finally processed what was going on. “Skwisgaar…? Dat’s yous?”

The pill was kicking in, and in Skwisgaar's relaxed state Toki’s sleepy, dazed face had a certain kind of irresistible innocence to it. He took a seat on the couch next to Toki and kissed him instead of responding.

“Lubes ams in bedside drawers,” Toki reminded him drowsily. Thrilled and relieved that his theory had been correct, Skwisgaar ducked into the bedroom and back quickly.

Marginally more awake now, Toki had kicked off the blanket and raised his arms toward Skwisgaar like a toddler asking to be picked up. He'd been sleeping in his boxers, which Skwisgaar quickly freed him of as he tugged off the Swede’s shirt.

Skwisgaar wasted no time, hoisting Toki’s legs up with one hand and undoing his pants with the other. Toki was relaxed tonight- from the kiss, Skwisgaar guessed a little drinking may have had something to do with that- and Skwisgaar didn't encounter much resistance in entering him. A brief flicker of paranoia made Skwisgaar wonder if it was _really_ because Toki’s hole had been in use recently, but the Valium smothered that thought in its cloudy embrace.

Toki's breathing quickened; his mouth sought Skwisgaar's neck. Muscle memory of the times they'd done this before kicked in and Skwisgaar shifted to a better angle and kept a steady rhythm. His partner arched his back in response, moaning, tongue still running in the hollow of Skwisgaar's neck where it met his collarbone. Toki repeated Skwisgaar's name like a breathy chant, like he'd never wanted or needed anything else.

Maybe it was because his senses had been dulled, but Toki's orgasm, signalled by a spasm and the sharp, unexpected sensation of teeth in his shoulder, took Skwisgaar by surprise. Toki's muscles clenching around him and increased pace on his end helped him reach his own climax a minute later.

Standing up too quickly made his head spin, and an overwhelming drowsiness rendered him incapable of doing much more than hurling the blanket back on top of Toki, staggering to the bedroom, and collapsing in bed. He was asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now's as good a time as any to say how much I appreciate the feedback or even just the fact that people are reading this? Holy crap?? I'm really blown away and grateful.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tells self I “need” to write some light bondage because it's “plot relevant” haha ok, me… sure…

At first, Toki thought the night before had been a dream. He'd woken up on the couch as usual, with no company but his own, and his stomach sank at what the implications of a dream like that would be until he noticed he was still naked from the waist down. Hopping back into his underwear on the way, he went to the bedroom to find the door open and Skwisgaar curled on the bed with his boots still on, mass of hair covering his face rising and falling in time with his breathing.

Toki hovered in the doorway, debating between joining Skwisgaar in bed or returning to the couch until Skwisgaar spoke, face still obscured by hair. “Stops starings at mes and gets in de bed.” 

Skwisgaar turned over onto his back as Toki climbed into bed and started to stretch until his arm jolted back in response to something unseen. “Ows! What's th…” He surveyed the source of the pain, two half-moon shaped sets of red marks on one shoulder and looked from it to Toki in bewilderment. “Dids you.... bites at me?” 

“I… I’s sorries…”

“Fucksing mountains monkey,” muttered Skwisgaar, rubbing at the bite. “Wells, if yous can dish it, can yous can takes its?”

Toki had been afraid at first of Skwisgaar's anger, but his voice had taken a more playful edge and a different sort of tension was building. “What's you means?” Toki squeaked.

Instead of answering his question, Skwisgaar ordered him to, “Takes off your shirts.” Once Toki had complied, Skwisgaar leaned in, mouth hovering just above Toki’s neck. He shuddered involuntarily at the sensation of warm breath on that sensitive area.

The teeth he was expecting made contact with his skin much more gently than he’d braced for, grazing him up his neck to his earlobe, which Skwisgaar nibbled on with equal delicacy. Toki squirmed, half-tickled and half-craving more. Skwisgaar breathed into his ear and he knew it was on purpose, he knew it was to drive him crazy, and it was working. He reached for the waistband of Skwisgaar's pants and had his hand smacked away. A whimper escaped despite himself.

Skwisgaar turned his attention to Toki's mouth next, nipping at the lower lip but ignoring the unspoken invitation for his tongue. Further denied, Toki resorted to doing something about his erection himself, only to have his hand once again smacked. “But… Skwisgaar…”

“Buts nothings, yous am being punisheds.” He punctuated it with another bite to Toki's lip, harder this time. “Sees, it amments nice to bites.” 

The biting wasn't the problem for Toki, it was the teasing, but there was nothing he could do about it other than stare wide-eyed at Skwisgaar. 

“Gets up.” Toki got to his knees hesitantly- meanwhile, Skwisgaar removed his boots and belt. “Turns around.” Again he obeyed, and when he tried to look back to see what Skwisgaar was doing, he was grabbed by the shoulders and turned back around to face the headboard of the bed. Holding Toki’s hands together, Skwisgaar wrapped his belt around Toki's wrists and the slats of the headboard.

Toki's entire body shook, his throat closed and he couldn't protest. Uncharacteristically, Skwisgaar wrapped him tightly in his arms, and the warm solid sensation of the other man's body against his own quelled the brunt of Toki's panic. “You wants I should stops?” Skwisgaar asked once the trembling subsided. With great effort, Toki shook his head. Skwisgaar brushed the hair away from Toki’s neck and went back to work with his mouth, alternately sucking and biting.

“Skwisgaaaar,” whined Toki, limited to only grinding his rear against Skwisgaar's hips. 

“Tells me whats you wants.”

“You knows whats I’s wants!”

Skwisgaar pulled back, the spot he’d been working on now cold from exposure to air, sending Toki into a different sort of panic. “Waits! Waits!”

“It ams simples, little Toki, just tells me whats you wants.”

“P… puts it in.”

“Puts what in? Wheres?”

“You...s dicks. In my… ass…”

“Ands dos whats with it?”

“F...fuck me…” He heard Skwisgaar's contented hum in response and breathed a little sigh, glad to have gotten it over with… until he felt the weight on the bed shift behind him. “What ams happening? Where yous going!?” He strained frantically to look over his shoulder as Skwisgaar walked out the door. “Skwisgaar!?”

Toki's separation anxiety was short-lived as Skwisgaar returned within a few seconds. “Calms down, dammit! I’s just getting the lubes from the other rooms.” Embarrassed but relieved, he leaned his forehead against the headboard and stuck his ass out for easier access. 

His relief was short lived. Skwisgaar's movements continued to be excruciatingly slow, from pulling down Toki's underwear to slicking himself up with lube. He rubbed his lubricated length against Toki instead of inserting right away and laughed at the squirmy response this produced. Toki groaned when at last Skwisgaar's dick pushed inside of him, but everything was still going too slowly. He fought the urge to push back against Skwisgaar, having realized that he was being teased more each time he tried to make the pace his own. “Fucks me harders,” he begged instead.

“Yous learnings, dats ams good.” As though affirming Toki had performed as desired, Skwisgaar picked up the pace. Having to wait for it made Toki feel each of Skwisgaar's movements like an electric current through his entire body. His vision blurred and it seemed that he couldn't get enough oxygen no matter how hard he breathed.

\--

Skwisgaar was bound and determined to enjoy Toki's desperation and took long, slow breaths to calm himself and keep from coming too soon.

Toki had no such self restraint and was panting and pulling on his makeshift restraints. With only minimal effort, he'd been reduced to a keening mess completely reliant on Skwisgaar, who realized that he enjoyed that. A lot.

Toki's responses to slight pain from the biting had been so positive that Skwisgaar wanted to take it a little further. With an open palm, he gave Toki’s rump a quick, sharp smack. The reaction this produced was a yelp and Toki immediately tightening, his ass rutting against Skwisgaar reflexively. Amused by the extreme reaction, Skwisgaar slapped him again, and this time Toki’s cries signalled his orgasm.

Not ready to stop, Skwisgaar ignored his partner’s writhing and continued a steady rhythm of his hips even as delirious gibberish kept pouring out of Toki. He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled- not hard, just enough to lift Toki’s head to get a look at his fucked-silly face.

They kissed hard and sloppy, tongues everywhere. Skwisgaar’s hand slipped down to Toki's gradually re-stiffening cock to help it along. Toki moved himself on Skwisgaar's dick, rhythm frantic and erratic.

Reaching the limit of his endurance, Skwisgaar groaned against Toki's back as his climax shuddered through his body. He stayed like this for a few seconds, nails of one hand digging into Toki's hip even as the other still stroked him, before finally extracting himself and crumpling onto the bed.

“Skwisgaar…?” Toki's voice sounded teary. With just a tinge of guilt, Skwisgaar recalled he was still tied to the bed and undid the belt. He hadn't been paying attention, but judging by the two wet spots on the pillow under Toki, he'd come again.

Too gone to notice or care, Toki collapsed on top of the stains, and, judging by the steady rhythm of his breathing, fell asleep. The skin on his wrists where he'd been straining against the belt was reddish; Skwisgaar traced it with his fingers before leaving Toki in bed alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the mountain monkey thing is more of a Danish insult for Norwegians? But it's so funny to me so there it is.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, it's been forever! I've had some life stuff and after that was over I forgot how to write? Nothing much even happens this chapter, wow I am just the worst. Anyway. Sorry. Again.

Skwisgaar returned from a coffee run to a distressed and dishevelled Toki looking wildly about the living room. His reaction to Skwisgaar's arrival ricocheted from relief to embarrassment, and Skwisgaar realized Toki thought he'd left without saying anything. An involuntary frown creased his forehead. He wasn't sure if this spoke more of Toki’s neediness or his own aloofness, and he also wasn't sure if either or both were bad or okay.

They ate the muffins Skwisgaar had bought along with the coffee, side-by-side on the couch in uncomfortable quiet, the silence only interrupted by the rhythmic sounds of Toki opening and pouring sugar packets, one after the other. Skwisgaar watched this go on for a while, hypnotized, until Toki felt his gaze and stopped, cheeks flushing. Skwisgaar looked away quickly, more to hide his interest than out of any sort of courtesy to Toki. He spotted, on a side table next to the armchair by the window, a record player. A box of records sat next to the table; Dethwater was out of its sleeve and in the player.

“You don'ts has to listens to dis, you knows.”

“I likes Dethkloks,” Toki replied earnestly. “I uh… plays alongs wit its sometimes.”

Skwisgaar’s head snapped up. “Shows me.”

Visibly flustered, Toki retrieved his guitar from its stand and plugged it into the amp with great effort necessitated by the shaking of his hands. Skwisgaar put on “Go Into the Water” before settling into the armchair.

Toki strummed with head bowed, hiding his face behind a curtain of hair. To Skwisgaar's surprise, he played a harmony part instead of following along. An irrepressible restlessness stirred in the pit of Skwisgaar's stomach. He followed the nagging impulse and switched off the record player, ignoring Toki's jolt of surprise to grab his own guitar, still sitting where he'd discarded it with his overnight bag in the foyer.

“Keeps goings,” he ordered, and, after flubbing the first few chords in confusion, Toki did his best to do so.

When they finished, Skwisgaar started another song, and again after a slight delay, Toki fell into step behind him. They kept going, Skwisgaar losing all concept of time until a loud grumble he realized was coming from his own stomach interrupted them. 

“I'm gettings pretty hongries, too,” Toki confessed.

Skwisgaar ate mechanically, barely tasting anything, too distracted trying to digest his feelings. Something significant happened each time the two of them played together. It wasn't that Toki was good- well, admittedly he wasn't bad- but Skwisgaar had played with good before, and that's all it'd been. Good. 

More accurately: with Toki, it wasn't just that Toki himself was good, but he seemed to pour everything into making Skwisgaar  _ better _ . It shouldn't feel this comfortable or familiar, yet something seemed right, like two jigsaw puzzle pieces that fit together, like they'd done this countless times before. He considered the concept of someone being born, being placed on earth solely for him, Skwisgaar Skwigelf. A human amplifier.

Looking up, he realized Toki had been steadily gazing at him with a concerned expression, and he had no answer for that questioning look. Too many questions of his own were bothering him, and at the forefront was how the person sitting in front of him had managed to become so quickly and completely incorporated into his life.

\-- 

Daydreaming was a hard habit to kick. Honed and developed over years of abuse, neglect, and general need to escape his current surroundings had made Toki an expert of being only partially present 80% of the time.

Things he'd dreamt of in the past had included playing guitar in front of adoring fans chanting his name. His parents apologizing, telling him they loved him and he was special and wanted. A Leave it to Beaver-esque future family waiting for him across the ocean, in a neat little house with a neat little lawn, neat little children eating breakfast made by his pretty wife in her neat little arpon who adored him.

These pastel watercolor dreams all seemed washed-out now next to his new bright, vivid ones of Skwisgaar. The scale of these were much smaller than his old, grandiose fairy tale dreams, but on some level Toki knew they were just as unrealistic. Viewing a mountain from closer didn’t guarantee a better chance at scaling it. Toki wanted Skwisgaar to always look at him with the wonder that was in his eyes whenever they played together. To wake up together every morning. When walking together, to hold hands. He wanted Skwisgaar to shower him with affection as easily and readily as he showered him with things.

Skwisgaar returned about once every week or two, only ever texting to notify Toki of his travel plans. Each time he left it was like Toki's life was on pause. He whiled away his time, surrounding himself with pleasant things but always dreaming of when Skwisgaar would come back. And when Skwisgaar was around, he found himself staring long after Skwisgaar had fallen asleep each night, as though his brain was trying to collect mental snapshots to safely stash away in the stores of his memory.

He didn't know much about arrangements like the one he'd miraculously been caught up in, but he had an inkling of an idea that he was doing something high risk, low return by getting attached. Yet still, like a moth drawn to a flame, he persisted in his dangerous obsession.

\--

If he had to guess what was going on in Nathan’s head, Skwisgaar would say it was probably similar to what he himself was thinking of. It was a fine line to produce new content that was at once consistent with previous work, yet different enough to avoid accusations of rehashing the same old material. You could talk all you want about staying true to your own artistic vision and ignoring douchebag critics, douchebag fans, ignorant accusatory comments of being washed up, but at the end of the day, that shit stuck around like a persistent fly, just out of reach but loud enough to make its presence known. 

There were too many expectations, and he didn’t want to play. And so, he supposed, that could very well be why Nathan didn’t want to write, either. Nathan wanted to stare at the newly installed saltwater fish tank and eat potato chips. 

At Toki's, sometimes they played together, sometimes Skwisgaar played alone, but he knew for certain it was easier to mess around on the guitar outside of Mordhaus. Nathan's writer’s block had an almost physical presence, blackening and muffling everything it touched. It was advanced. It was brutal. It was worse than Skwisgaar had ever known it to be. Anxiety in the back of his mind questioned if this could be it for Dethklok, but he repressed it, forcefully and with a history of a lot of practice.

That was why, he reasoned, this was his third weekend in a row back here. He woke up with an empty spot in bed where Toki had been, bedroom door open and the smell of coffee wafting in. It felt disorientingly like nighttime still, but a glance at the clock confirmed it was morning. Puffy yet ominous black clouds outside were responsible for the lack of light that had fooled Skwisgaar.

Whether or not Toki ever managed to use a coffee maker remained a mystery, but he had apparently obtained and learned the use of a French press. There were pop tarts in the toaster, but no Toki in the kitchen. 

“Oh, you's awake,” he heard from behind him. Toki was coming out of the study Skwisgaar had momentarily forgotten the existence of.  

“What you doings in dere?”

Suspicion flared up briefly at Toki's flustered hesitation to respond, but the answer turned out simply to be miniature models of airplanes.

So many model airplanes! Several of the ones Toki had already completed hung from the ceiling, others sat on the desk and bookshelf, and a stack of unassembled ones still in their boxes sat in the corner.

“You uh… really likes dese tings.”

“I tinks a lots about airplane takings me away as a kids. ‘S likes freedoms. You cans goes anywhere, escapes anytinks. Guess I’s never stops likings dem.”

Skwisgaar had never quite grown accustomed to the way Toki delivered information about his past as a battered child in a complacent way, as though it weren't abnormal for a kid to be treated that way. He forcefully swallowed a lump of something that felt disturbingly like sadness and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a pet headcanon of mine that both Skwisgaar and Toki have perfect pitch, only Toki doesn't know anything by name and is much less creative, so he's good at replicating sounds and harmonizing with them, but not so much coming up with anything new.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sappiest garbage I've ever written please end me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went from updating once a week to once a month, and it took a dozen chapters to get to this fic’s namesake h a h a. Also, um, songfics are retro enough to be in again, right? Cue nervous sweating.  
> Anyway [here's](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcWKZTI9OC4) the song if you haven't heard it before and are curious. I thought a lot about the timeline and Toki's age and in the end decided that while probably plausible, I don't really care enough about how likely it was or not that he could actually have grown up knowing it. Metalocalypse universe works strangely anyway.

The black clouds Skwisgaar had noticed that morning gave up their heavy loads during breakfast. For his part, Skwisgaar was perfectly content to stay in out of the rain and watch B-horror movies on TV. Toki's scared reactions to even the fakest gore were comically exaggerated, and even though he complained about Skwisgaar's relentless teasing, he still persisted in watching.

He'd tried to bury his face in Skwisgaar's shirt, but Skwisgaar, annoyed with being pawed at, had pushed him off firmly, and he sat instead with his face half-hidden behind a cushion.

“Dat am sads,” he commented woefully as the credits rolled at the end of the movie.

“Sads? Yous screaming like a ladies so much and now you says it sads?”

“De girls dies, and he love her so much! It ams sads!”

Skwisgaar snorted. Leave it to the biggest sap he'd ever known to get sad over a character dying in a horror movie, where death was always a guarantee.

The steady pitter patter of rain and low flickering light of the television were suddenly interrupted by a flash of light in the distance. Living in a house with extreme soundproofing made necessary by its double duty as home and studio had made Skwisgaar half-forget that storms generated sound, and the clap of thunder that followed made him jump.

“Hahas! Yous scared too!” Toki crowed. “Yous scared of de thunder! You’s big babies!”

Skwisgaar corrected him crossly, “I ams  _ startles,  _ I  _ ain't  _ scareds.”

“If you scareds, it ams okeys! I know what's to does for yous. Comes here, comes here.” He switched off the tv and ran off into the bedroom, leaving Skwisgaar to wonder where he was supposed to “come heres” to. From the room, he procured the comforter and pillows off their bed, which he took into the study. After a minute of the sound of moving furniture and arranging bedding, Toki reappeared in the living room and took Skwisgaar's arm. “Toki takes care of everytinks.”

Initially irritated and confused, Skwisgaar understood once he felt Toki’s clammy hand, saw the tightness in his face, and noted the rising tone of his voice. It wasn't really that Toki was convinced Skwisgaar was afraid of thunderstorms. Toki himself was the one who was afraid. 

With this realization, Skwisgaar allowed himself to be towed into the study, where Toki had put together a blanket fort out of the desk, chair, and pillows. Skwisgaar hesitated but eventually followed Toki under the desk and into the fort.

Toki's breathing was shallow and rapid; in their close quarters, Skwisgaar could feel his entire body tense when another boom of thunder rolled. “It ams okey,” he said, then repeated, ostensibly to Skwisgaar, but really for himself. 

“Our house,” he explained to Skwisgaar, the two of them sitting side-by-side, pressed up against each other. “Outs in de opens. No trees right nears it. Sometime when it rain dey wouldn'ts let's me goes insides till I finishes my works.” Skwisgaar knew without being told that he was referring to his parents. “I’s so scareds I’s goings to gets strucks by lightnings, ha ha.” The laugh was weak. Skwisgaar focused on his knees, not wanting to see what expression could be on Toki's face after telling him such a thing. “I’s use to sings dis songs when I was a little kids when it storms and I’s scareds and it makes me feels better. You wants I should sings its to yous?”

Skwisgaar shrugged stiffly. He was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in their cramped position.

Taking it as a yes, Toki began to hum, stroking Skwisgaar's hair as he did so. Skwisgaar, expecting a lullaby or some sort of Norwegian folk song, was surprised after a few measures that he actually recognized the tune. He dredged the words to the song up from his memory.

_ When there's lightning, you know it always brings me down _

_ 'Cause it's free and I see that it's me _ _  
_ _ Who's lost and never found _

He was a little perplexed as to how these words could possibly have been of comfort to a child.

_ Do your demons, do they ever let you go? _ _  
_ _ When you've tried, do they hide, deep inside _

_ Is it someone that you know? _

He thought, against his will, of the scars crisscrossing across Toki's back. Only the sound of Toki's continued humming seemed to exist. Eyes shut, he imagined Toki as a child, out in the rain, shaking from cold and fear as the pitch sky above was torn apart by bright white light.

_ Feel the magic, I feel it floating in the air _ __  
_ But it's fear, and you'll hear _ _  
_ __ It calling you beware

Toki's fingers through his hair, his nails gently scratching his scalp, sent pleasurable goosebumps down the backs of Skwisgaar's arms. Tension he didn't know he'd been holding in his chest and between his shoulder blades loosened. There was something soothing about this on a primal level, like reverting to an infant, safe and warm, swaddled and held close.

_ There's no sign of the morning coming _ __  
_ You've been left on your own _ _  
_ __ Like a rainbow in the dark

His thoughts turned to Toki in a foreign country in his own, chasing a dream that never came to anything, nursing a talent no one ever saw: a rainbow in the dark.

And yet Toki was the one caring for him, whether it be making coffee or letting Skwisgaar use his body or… this. And he needed this, he realized. After a lifetime of fending for himself, he needed to be cared for and looked after.

Skwisgaar was taken aback by his own reaction; the messy thoughts and emotions that welled up, prompted by Toki’s touch and song, had brought on rare tears. 

“Skwisgaar? I’s sorries for making the funs of you, please don'ts cry.”

He tried and failed to come up with a snappy retort; he hadn't the energy. Instead he pressed his forehead against Toki's and closed his eyes again, listening to the muted sounds of rain.

\--

Toki held his breath when Skwisgaar's face touched his own, and even as long seconds ticked by, Skwisgaar still stayed put.

Cautiously, he closed the gap between them to kiss Skwisgaar, gingerly at first, then more deeply when Skwisgaar’s lips parted. He felt like he was melting, and like it was impossible for them to be close enough, even crammed together the way they were. His hands were in Skwisgaar's hair pulling him in closer, closer; he wanted the edges between them to blur then disappear completely.

“Skwisgaar? I...” He reluctantly loosed his grip when Skwisgaar pulled out of the kiss.

“Hmm?” Eyes still closed, Skwisgaar nuzzled his nose against Toki's. He'd been crying just a minute ago, but now he was as soft as a kitten, and the question of how to get him closer and then even closer kept repeating through Toki’s mind.

“Skwisgaar… I lo-”

An ear-splitting guitar riff interrupted Toki and snapped Skwisgaar out of his dreamy, trancelike state. He shifted to retrieve his cell phone from his back pocket, and in doing so, banged his head against the bottom of the desk. “Fucks!” He cursed again when, phone in hand, he saw who was calling- Toki couldn't help but notice the name CHARLES on the screen. “Stupid dildos managers.” Oh, so Charles was the name of his manager, thought Toki with a sensation not unlike relief. “If I don'ts answers he will keeps on calling, I knows it.” With that, he crawled out of the fort to take the call.

Toki remained where he was while the sound of conversation went on, trying not to eavesdrop, but Skwisgaar’s voice coming from the bedroom was very obviously angry. He came out from under the desk and table when the sound of Skwisgaar speaking stopped. 

Skwisgaar returned to the study, phone still in one hand, the other running through his hair in frustration. Looking up at Skwisgaar from his position on the floor, the thought floated through Toki's mind that even when annoyed, he still looked beautiful. 

“Works?”

Skwisgaar nodded. “Records wants us to works on this stupids dumb dildos album. Stupids.”

After climbing to his feet, Toki wrapped his arms around Skwisgaar, and, to his surprise, enough of Skwisgaar's cuddly mood remained for him to rest his chin on Toki's shoulder and sigh. “He says I has to leaves on the next flight in an hour,” he added morosely.

Toki wanted to ask when he'd be back, but didn't have the courage- the fear of disappointment was too great. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has zero plot relevance but the movie they're watching is Re-Animator, mostly because I love Re-Animator. (Also it's gory enough for Toki to be scared and fake enough for Skwisgaar to judge him for being scared, lol.)


End file.
